Rough Rider

It is funny how some things work in some situations yet not in others. For example spaghetti and hot dogs would not be on anyone in the US's breakfast menu; yet when served in Haiti, it is quite delicious.

The same can be said for my bicycle. In Los Angeles, going from the Southbay to Santa Monica, it makes complete sense, is functional, and of course, unlike the guy riding it, looks cool. Put this same bike into the back of ones' gas-pig, drive 12 hours east into the desert of New Mexico and this same practical, quick, and comfortable bike becomes rather foolish. Tires: (we have not gone far enough east to call them tyres) way too hard and narrow, basket: vibrates so much on the rough pavement that it began to self destruct, single speed: so wrong for climbing miles of relentless incline.

I am visiting my folks who live out side of town and there is a preponderance of gravel roadway. As I am accustomed to a bit sand, the loose gravel is ok yet 28mm road tires are not the way to go. When I get out on the actual "paved" road, it is more like gravel that is being held place by some blackish stuff. It is rough. The kind of rough where a kidney belt might be in order.

That brings me to the hill. This bit of "pavement" in the middle of the desert, heads down to town or up to the mountains. I have been heading towards the mountains each morning at dawn. Needles to say it is up hill; one of those hills that gets steeper and steeper as it goes. With the elevation at 4500ft above sea level, I was winded within the first mile. Standing on the pedals, hunched over my fancy French style handlebars, I barely made it 2/3 of the way to the top (or where the pavement ends).
Multiple gears would be good.

Now I have been here a few days and can make it to the end of the paved road with only one rest break. I have removed the basket to preserve it from being torn apart. I actually saw this little piece fall off. I love the desert and New Mexico has long been a second home for me. Life brings us changes and challenges, I feel like we have to get up each morning and ride towards the mountains in the East as the sun rises and not get too caught up on what we ride. It is more about how we ride; how we see who and what is around us, how we take on the challenge of the day.

Racing Home

Unlike say walking or running, when you ride a bike, you can actually get somewhere useful in a reasonable amount of time. It takes me about an hour to ride 16 miles home from work each day. An average speed of… well 16 miles per hour; not very fast but respectable. Some days it takes a little longer; head winds, traffic lights, taking the time to interact with other cyclists or picking up two green enchilada plates from La Playita, all can add to the overall time required to get home. Now I do not have a speedometer, or bike computer, and I only rarely time my ride. I found myself becoming a slave to the clock and I know if I had a bike computer I would for sure become a a freak about my cadence, speed and any other facts those little gadgets spit out. I love to ride my bike and while I have done it professionally, (I was messenger in Boston back in the day) I'v never been a racer. I am not very fast and not very competitive, or so I thought.

Since I have been commuting I have noticed this thing where I see a cyclist ahead of me, and I pick up my pace. I know this is foolish. One should find ones pace and stick to it. Yet there I am, pouring it on to catch whoever is ahead of me.

Where does this come from? Nine times out of ten it turns out to be an older guy on a expensive road bike and I end up feeling bad about passing him with my single speed. I mean if it is a young guy, or even a kind of not so young, but has not actually figured that out yet guy like me, it would be ok but those guys are more likely to be zipping past me.

This brings me to The Blue Rider. For over a year on any given evening, I have been passed on the way home by a guy on a dark blue single speed. It is a nice bike. Modern corm-mo steel frame, flat bars, no frills. Now being passed is one thing, but this guy tears past me. I have on several occasions tried pursuit, and was left panting in the dust. The Blue Rider is fast. This lead me to thinking less than nice thoughts about him. The nefarious Blue Rider creeping up behind me on the bike path with his rather bright headlight casting weird shadows of my form in the darkness. Then he pounces. He is next to me not even long enough for a greeting (and none is offered) and then off into the night leaving me to stare at his Cat Eye tail light winking mockingly at me.

On one occasion we were waiting together at a traffic signal. He was all looking off and ignoring me. I even asked "How's it going?". No response. That is just not done. The Blue Rider… my nemesis.

A few days ago he nipped past me as I slowed for the light at Abbot Kinney and Venice. I followed in hot pursuit, but was losing ground. He snapped the left onto Marr St. I followed but hooked a right on the little foot-path that connects you through to Mildred, a short cut. He took Oxford. We arrived at the light at Washington simultaneously. The light changed promptly and he got off ahead of me. This is where I pick up the official Southbay Bike Path. "That's it, I'm not racing, this guy's just jerk anyhow" I told myself. I kind of let him go. As we approached the next intersection at Admiralty Way, he slowed as the light was against us.

I caught him at the light. We stood in silence, waiting. Then I spoke out "Nice day." The Blue Rider double took as he turned his head and said in quiet voice "Yeah" This was not the snarl of an evil opponent, this was an almost shy voice. "I see you out here pretty often." I continued. "Yeah every night" he replied. I nodded "You sure are fast.". He shrugged sheepishly and said "My wife, she gets mad if I don't get home on time." We laughed and with that the light changed. He was off opting for the smoother but heavily trafficked Admiralty Way. I took my time on the bike path and where it comes back out on Fiji Way I could see The Blue Rider off in the distance. Racing home.